Signed by Germund Rein.
Then Zimmermann called and told me that Rein was dead.
- Probably suicide. - Suicide?
Took his boat, sailed out to sea and threw himself overboard...
I'd like to go to Maardam and work there.
Well, it's a matter of cost.
Okay, I understand. I'll see what I can do.
- Have you read it yet? - I'll wait until you've translated it.
As discussed, we have to be discreet. Don't let anyone know.
- Not a word about why you're in Maardam. - Of course.
We made a copy for safety and put it in a bank deposit box.
You have to admit it's exciting!
Five days before we received the manuscript by post
Germund, his wife Mariam Kadhar and his publisher
went to their house in Behrensee.
It seems to have been a well-oiled night. Mariam only woke up around lunchtime.
At first she didn't miss her husband. She thought he was sleeping it off.
As far as I understand they had separate bedrooms.
About an hour later she went to his room. He wasn't there.
But she found a letter in his typewriter. A Triumph-Adler, an old portable one.
Rein wasn't much into computers.
What was in the letter?
It hasn't leaked to the press yet. But the letter was short and to the point.
A simple farewell.
Some time in the early morning, Rein must have left the house.
He went out to sea in his boat.
An old bronze statue that stood in front of the house was missing.
It's assumed he used that as a weight. It weighed about 15 kg.
But finding Rein on the sea bottom would be as simple as finding Atlantis.
Why would Rein want to take his own life?
Bejman from the Evening Post.
As far as Bejman's concerned, he doesn't seem especially surprised.
- And Rein's wife? - The beautiful Mariam Kadhar?
Heartbroken apparently.
She's avoiding the press, giving no interviews. She learnt well from him.
She has comfort in the inheritance.
It's a tidy sum, three to four million euros.
If you're happy, I'll get the bill. I'd like to catch the last flight.
Of course, I'm sure.
Why should Kerr and Amundsen be involved?
I wouldn't know.
But you're employed by us, for fuck's sake!
It was probably Germund Rein's publisher that hired him. What's his name again?
Gerlach, yes, it could have been him.
You said that only we knew about the manuscript.
That's what Rein wrote in the letter, but I can't guarantee that it's the case.
That I understand.
- You must be careful with the material. - Of course.
- You haven't read the whole book yet? - No, you know very well.
You can work however you want, but...
...it's vital that I know what's in the book.
- I'll call when I'm done. - Thanks.
Fifty thousand books, and this only the first edition.
This is huge, David, massive!
- Do you need more money? - No.
As you please.
Amundsen is arranging a press conference tomorrow.
How'd you like to handle it?
- How do you mean? - You're the spider in the web.
To the journalists, you're the lead character.
I thought you'd understood that by now?
Not really, if I'm honest.
Perhaps an exclusive interview with a particular paper?
When the trial starts, you'll have your hands full with reporters.
It doesn't interest me at all.
In any case, Mariam Kadhar is charming. Far too charming for a man like Rein.
But she didn't need to have killed him...
Judit Kerr.
The book is selling like hotcakes. It's making headlines all over Europe.
Of course Gerlach has tried to sue us, but he couldn't stop the first run.
It won't slow down sales.
On the contrary...
I can't talk right now. I'll call you.